Take charge, little trembler.

It's amazing how much I've grown up in the past week.

Monday, I paid the long overdue water bill that my parents had been ignoring since April. With the running water finally on, (fuck yes, hot showers!) there was laundry to do. A LOT of laundry. And dirty dishes stacked atop each other for miles and miles. So while my Mom napped and my sister played a computer game, I scrubbed every inch of the bathroom, mopped all the linoleum floors and tackled the laundry and dishes.
Next day, I went into the grocery store and spoke to the hiring manager.
Short, intimidating, and to my opinion, a general asshole. I introduced myself, shook his hand and asked if he'd reviewed my application yet.
"No?" is what he said. But he'd get right on it, he assured me.
Strange little man. I'll have to admit, I didn't WANT to work there. I just wanted to get a job. Anywhere. All the cashiers dislike me already for some unknown reason so I knew it wouldn't be fun.
Regardless, I filled out my application as flattering to myself as I could and apparently made a good impression on the manager.
Wednesday, Daddy got out of detox. (That's a whole other story right there). He didn't want to stick around the house so we decided to hit the mall.

Rule #1: Never go shopping if you don't have money.

My Mother never read that handbook.
Whilst browsing the many shops filled with material things I know I'll never be able to afford, I stumbled into a small costume jewelry shop called Princess and was given an application.
I filled it out, brought it back, and instead of being interviewed by the manager, I met the big wig. I mean, the guy who owns the chain. He's opened 16 stores across the country and here's little ol' me who's never had a job before, asking him if he'll take me on.
He asked me to call him "Mo". Short for Mohammed, I assume because yes, he is Muslim. Mo speaks low, but with authority. He looked me straight up and down, asked me why I thought I could do this job, told me that it wouldn't be easy, that he doesn't tolerate his employees standing around, asked me if I thought I could handle it, then hired me. I was psyched.
But also nervous. Very, very nervous. Terrified, in fact. So terrified, I woke up at 3am the next morning and waited for my alarm clock to go off at 7.
At 9:30, Mom dropped me off and I waited for 30 minutes in the food court of the mall for Ben, my manager to open the store at 10.
Ben is.. interesting. 24 years old, Muslim, can barely speak English and has the hots for me. Great. 
He showed me how to stock and price, how to run the register and take credit cards, etc. Four hours later, I was running the place myself. Seriously. Ben went to sleep in the stock room.
But it was fun! I met and helped so many people. All walks of life and all races of women came pouring in that shop asking me to help them find a bracelet, necklace, ring, etc to match their outfit or to go with their prom dress.
For 11 hours, I stood and walked around that shop flapping my gums and putting my good taste to work. Then at 10pm, we closed shop and counted the money (cough, $1,234.94, cough). 
Home, shower, valium, bed. I'm proud of myself.

"The brave may not live forever, but the cautious never live at all."